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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24594994">Black Wolf</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usagi_Mitsu/pseuds/Usagi_Mitsu'>Usagi_Mitsu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Garlean Drabbles [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Backstory, Character Study, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Gaius Baelsar - Freeform, Garleans (Final Fantasy XIV), Garlemald - Freeform, Gen, Lore Exploration, Military Backstory, Military career, Tragedy, Volcanoes, because as a good friend said: Garlics deserve more attention, ffxiv - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:22:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24594994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usagi_Mitsu/pseuds/Usagi_Mitsu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He entered the military academy at the age of ten. As custom. <br/>He did well. He did not excel, but he was just above the average. <br/>Noteworthy? Not in the least. <br/>But it was enough to become an imperial officer.</p>
<p>And when duty called, he answered.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gaius van Baelsar &amp; Varis zos Galvus, Gaius van Baelsar &amp; Warrior of Light, Varis zos Galvus &amp; Zenos yae Galvus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Garlean Drabbles [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Black Wolf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Attention: Potential Spoilers for ARR - I'm not sure, but I think it would be better, if you finished ARR first. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Young men and women often don’t know what to do with themselves. In many case, they are overwhelmed by the choices life presents them with.</p>
<p>Should they study at the academy and become a scholar?</p>
<p>Should they learn their families trade?</p>
<p>Or should they – as many young Garlean does – join the prestigious military and devote themselves to the cause?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In his case, someone else had made that decision long ago.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His father was an officer hailing from the city of Heraculaneum, a city of prosperity – the ground rich with minerals, the harvest bountiful. He merely a Centurio. But well liked, revered and respected by the people. Later, he retired to serve as Quaestor. His fiscal policies were well liked throughout the city he served. At least, to those with citizen status, of course. They all paid their taxes equally. But only a citizen was allowed to harvest the fruits of their hard labour – the theatres, museums and exhibitions; the public baths, transport and access to any public servant. But who cared about noncitizens anyways.</p>
<p>His mother was born a commoner. A Garlean one, for sure. Or she would have never been allowed to wed his father. The mixing of true Garlean blood with the filth from abroad..? Nay, not in this family. But she… she was of good stock. A good match for a young and ambitious military man. A young woman from a less than problematic family. What could he have asked for more? Yes, perhaps there were better ones out there. But also out of the reach of a man such as he.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>He</em> was born in the first year of their marriage. A nursemaid held him, dressed him, fed him for his first years in life. He would be well protected. None of his other siblings did survive; all of them born as silent as the steel in his parents eyes. He would stay the only child.</p>
<p>The son, who would one day help elevate their status further.</p>
<p>It was what he was meant to do. It was who he was meant to be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He entered the military academy at the age of ten. As custom.</p>
<p>He did well. He did not excel, but he was just above the average.</p>
<p>Noteworthy? Not in the least.</p>
<p>But it was enough to become an imperial officer.</p>
<p>He grew from a simple Legionaries to a Decurion. Managed to climb up to the position of an Optio and finally surpassing his father, by rising to the rank of an Primus Prior.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was still young, a pup. But the people revered him: He was a good commander, treated his soldiers well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And at twenty and five summers, he wed his comrade’s sister.</p>
<p>She was a beauty, three winters his senior and a force of her own. He had known his mother as a meek and modest, quiet the moment the father raised his voice. She was neither. The daughter of a lesser noble family scolded him, taunted him, spoke up and while she looked down on his shortcomings, she kept on praising his achievements.</p>
<p>Their marriage was a passionate, but loveless one. And when he finally rose to the rank of Primus Pilus, commanding a legions first cohort, he had been blessed with four healthy children and a wife more akin to a challenger, than a supporter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But duty called him and at thirty and three summers, he followed it’s commanding voice into battle once again.</p>
<p>The campaign was harsh. The environment even harsher.</p>
<p>But it was then and there, that he met the man, who would alter his life forever.</p>
<p>The oldest son of the heir presumptive was not a man of many words, but of many strong believes. Many, which he shared.</p>
<p>Day after day they would sit together in the officer’s tent, warm their cold and bloodied limbs by a fire, and discuss everything that came to mind.</p>
<p>The raging battles outside.</p>
<p>The weather.</p>
<p>The complaints filed by the troops.</p>
<p> Medical supplies.</p>
<p>The weather again.</p>
<p>The new environment.</p>
<p>Strategy.</p>
<p>The culinarians poor choice in food.</p>
<p>The weather once more.</p>
<p>Their officers.</p>
<p>Their family’s.</p>
<p>And solemnly, their children.</p>
<p>While he was happy to speak about the promise of his four offspring’s, his friend was less so. He had lost his wife the day his son was born. And he had loved her so much, he could not stand looking at the two year old boy with all the features of the one he had lost.</p>
<p>One of the many reasons for his deployment to the front.</p>
<p>Why else would a man in his station even think about going on campaign himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His parents though were more than happy to hear about the blossoming friendship between the two men. The mother asked for a marriage between her granddaughter and the others son – but only in private. The father dreamed of promotions and a thicker purse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But naught would come to pass.</p>
<p>About four winters later, when his daughter was just about ten summers young, while the prince had seen about six springs, his world changed.</p>
<p>Their world changed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some may say it was predictable. Some may say that it was not.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But in his thirty and eight year, the forces of nature – or much rather “Hydaelin”, as the savages called it – brought death and destruction about the empire.</p>
<p>The 24<sup>th</sup> sun of the fourth umbral moon, as recollected by the savages, was the day of the empires greatest failure. At least, until the Bozja incident would take its place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It began in the morning. The sun had risen above the city long ago, as the birds began to scream. Not sing or chatter. Scream.</p>
<p>And the earth shook beneath the peoples feet.</p>
<p>The skies were blue and nobody truly paid attention. These things happened once in a while. It was not uncommon or unheard off.</p>
<p>It was around noon, that everyone became weary of the situation. The earth shook once more. Tiles falling off the roof. Water swapping over in the bath houses. The mountain, a monument to peace, tranquillity, and stability, was covered in dark clouds.</p>
<p>White.</p>
<p>Everything went white.</p>
<p>A never-ending rain of suds and ash and sulphur spilled over the city. The sky was the colour of the blackest night and <em>the earth would just not stop shaking.</em></p>
<p>Balls of fire rained all across the city.</p>
<p>A thunder storm raged in the distance, a warning sign to everyone close by – if it wasn’t for the glowing pieces of rock literally raining down from high above.</p>
<p>At the end of the day, if anything was still alive, it would have seen a dark orange sunset beneath a blackened sea of clouds.</p>
<p>And it did not stop during the night.</p>
<p>The the following morning saw the whole region buried in white ash.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The empire kept the information about the incident confined. What had happened was outrageous. How had they not seen it coming. They – as the nation with the best scientists.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But while an empire as a whole might feel sadness, tiredness and (to a degree) compassion, it did never occur to them to even consider a tragedy like this a cause for respite.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That day, he had not been there.</p>
<p>That day, he had been on campaign – as his station commanded.</p>
<p>That day, he lost his father. He lost his mother. He lost his childhood friends. And he lost his wife and soon to be five children.</p>
<p>That day, ash and smoke buried all of his life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That day, he swore to never let fate or the gods or anything take everything from him again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His next campaign lead him to warmer climates.</p>
<p>At the command of his friend, now a High Legatus, he became a willing part in a faux revolution.</p>
<p>Eorzea had to be tamed. The beast men and their tribes shown their limits.</p>
<p>Ala Mhigo was the starter. Gridania would have been the first course. Uld’ah and it’s wastes the main and the shores of Vylbrandt the dessert.</p>
<p>Ishgard would never be a problem; a country far too occupied with its own petty wars.</p>
<p>Perhaps the Sharlyans in Dravania could be reasoned with. Their creed was pacifism and watching over what they called history after all. Perhaps they were a people one could talk to.</p>
<p>But one after another.</p>
<p>First, they had to gain a foothold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Ala Mhigo fell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While an ancient dragon lord dominated their fleet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Between all of that, his friend fell silent.</p>
<p>The emperors son was found murdered, the grandson disillusioned..? He would not speak of it.</p>
<p>Their goal though remained the same and the invasion of more savage lands was in their grasp-</p>
<p>But the emperor himself forbade it. By his decree did they stay were they were. Erected a wall. “To protect the free citizens of Ala Mhigo”, he would say, “from the savage beasts of the forests.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Legatus was but a title.</p>
<p>He wore it gladly.</p>
<p>But it gave him the authority over all and any captives lifes. And he wanted the authority. He would treat them all equally.</p>
<p>But he would always be good to the children. If he could, he would raise them. Teach them. Perhaps even rid them of their savage side and make them model Garlean citizens.</p>
<p>It was his dream. A wish.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had never raised his own. But perhaps he could raise them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At fifty seven summers tough, it all ended.</p>
<p>The castrum was burning and a thing the savages called “hero” stood against him.</p>
<p>Had he grown old? Had he grown weak? Had he miscalculated?</p>
<p>Math had always been a strength of his.</p>
<p>But this time… this time he was wrong. Very much so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And as he lay there, his legacy slowly turning to ash around him… could he truly give up just yet?</p>
<p>Or was there more for him to do.</p>
<p>For the one they called Black Wolf.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi there! </p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading! I hope you did enjoy this - it was something I really wanted to explore, but only now got around to it. I'm personally not 100% happy with it just yet, but it's the story I wanted to tell and this format is the only way, I can without making it 350.000 words in multiple chapters which I would probably never ever get to finish. :) </p>
<p>But what I do want to explore at some point - if the MSQ or any other official source does not - is the relationship, the friendship between Gaius and Varis. Because I do like to think, that they were friends and knew each other well. And them being on campaign together, them fighting side-by-side, sharing experiences and Gaius ultimately deciding to back Varis in the war for succession. <br/>So maybe I will write out some of the scenes mentioned here. </p>
<p>A big thanks goes to emmerwrites and frostmantle. Both of them are writers on here and while emmer has been kind enough to answer a bunch of my questions, frosti is the reason I did not write this down days agos because <em>porn without plot</em>. Please check their works out, if you have not. <br/>I love their writings!!!</p>
<p>Anyways - thank you again, please stay safe - please stay healthy! </p>
<p>~ Usagi</p></blockquote></div></div>
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